


Rational

by Viridian5



Category: due South
Genre: Episode Related, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-10-01
Updated: 2001-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:15:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser tries to figure out his reaction to his new Ray.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rational

**Author's Note:**

> Written: 10/01. Web release: 3/03. Originally published in the 'zine _Duet_ 2\. Spoilers for "Burning Down the House" and "Eclipse."
> 
> Inspired by a discussion on the Asylum e-mail list.

He is not Ray Vecchio.

That much is obvious. Blatant, even. Although he'd memorized our past cases admirably, and perhaps his various attempts to ask women out on dates had been intended to approximate some of my Ray's behaviour, this man's looks, accent, mannerisms, ways of thinking, preferred attire, and sheer energy all point to the immediate conclusion that he is not one Raymond Vecchio, detective first grade, Chicago Police Department.

So why the hell did I give him a window putty sandwich, among other things, in an effort to prove it? Sitting back in my office chair and reviewing the day's events, I don't like what I see of myself at all.

Rigidity of thought and habit inhibited a man's ability to adapt. I'd thought myself to be properly flexible. How wrong I had been about myself.

In fact, logic and my powers of observation had failed me as well. Lieutenant Welsh had expressed a need to talk to me privately. This blond person calling himself Ray Vecchio was trying very hard to get me to accept him as Ray Vecchio. All of Ray's coworkers treated him as Ray Vecchio. I should have taken those facts together and come to the conclusion that something unusual but important was in the offing and that I should go along.

I did not. I went into shock. I locked up. I was inexcusably rude and sarcastic to him, challenging him at every step. I imposed upon his physical person repeatedly to obtain a measurement of his nose, fingerprints, and a dental model.

He must think me insane. _I_ think I'm insane.

Saying that I had my dead father cheering me on the whole way hardly provided a testimonial to my sanity.

"Don't blame this one on me, Son. I didn't tell you to grab the Yank's hair."

Et tu, Dad? "It's not as if I grabbed his hair in a fit of passion, Dad. I simply put my hand atop his head to hold it steady as I measured his nose. His hair was simply under my hand." I won't think about how it felt under my hand. "You were enthusiastic about the process at the time."

"Heat of the moment. Now that I look back, some of your behavior seems a bit fishy and overeager."

"Overeager."

"You spent an inordinate amount of time stroking, as he put it, his calf and inner thigh."

I won't think about how that felt either. "I was looking for a bomb."

"Did you think that Garbo miscreant had somehow managed to strap it to his leg under his jeans?"

"No, I hoped to prevent him from stepping on the brake and stopping the car. A burning car presented great danger to pedestrians. And, yes, Dief, I know that by their very nature pedestrians are 'afoot.' I doubt you would have done better in your efforts to convince Ray."

"You couldn't have continued asking him to stop?"

"Dad, precisely what are you accusing me of?"

"I think you know."

I knew. Just as I felt justified in partially blaming my initial shock on all the time this new Ray had spent touching me in the first few minutes of our first meeting. That warm hug of greeting. The casual way he put his hand on my shoulder and arm behind my back as we walked through the hall. All of it so friendly and affectionate. Too friendly and affectionate.

I still don't know what to make of him comparing our partnership--our duet, as he called it--to a famed songwriting team, a trio of comedians, and a murderous couple. Leopold and Loeb, indeed.

Though if I counted the real Ray Vecchio, we do make a kind of trio, even if comparing us to the Three Stooges is hardly complimentary.

The new Ray had thrown himself into his role and at me so quickly and recklessly that he'd already been in deep within my personal space before I could summon the presence of mind to object. He'd used the same tactic, though far more aggressively and with the intent to intimidate, on Zoltan Motherwell, and it had worked there as well.

I could just see myself telling that to Ray: It's not my fault; your replacement forced me to like him.

And I did. Like him. Inordinately. I enjoyed his quick wit, passion, and recklessness. His powers of deduction and his research impressed me, as did his ability to challenge me right back every time I tested him. I'd sensed a great courage and generosity of heart in him despite his repeated assertion that he risked his life for no one.

After all, he had already taken a bullet for me, proving his assertion wrong. If Greta Garbo had aimed higher or lower, he would have died for me only hours after having met me. It was behavior that fit the three citations revealed in the records of a detective listed alternately as Kowalski, Stanley R. and Kowalski, S. Raymond.

They'd paired me with a man named "Stanley Kowalski." I'm looking forward to what he'll have to say to that when I ask him.

Though it worries me that I uncovered his true identity so quickly from existing and easily available paperwork. I'd have to bring up my concerns to the lieutenant.

My concerns.... I didn't want to think about but couldn't stop remembering that moment when the shot had thrown this Ray back against me, the limp sprawl of his wet body in my arms, the horror I felt at the possibility of someone so vital being snuffed out before I even got the chance to know him. The horror I felt at the thought that if he hadn't met me, he'd still be alive. It had made me far rougher in subduing Greta Garbo than was my wont.

If I'd merely liked him, that would have been fine. He had an engaging personality, a quick wit, and a talent for solving mysteries. He'd been amazingly indulgent in dealing with my proof gathering, even when it had involved a taste of window putty. If I'd merely been attracted to him, that would also have been fine. He's an attractive man, and pheromones are unpredictable. And he crackled in a way that made me want to touch him. Though I would not, being disinclined to affairs that involved only the body, not the heart.

But liking and attraction both at once? Experiencing both together makes me feel gravely disloyal to my Ray, even if we had mutually decided to remain as friends alone.

I don't know what to do.

I hate feeling this unsettled, and not even the calm, quiet feel of the new consulate, Canadian soil, around me is soothing me. I'm lost. I'd been acting lost and insane but only realized why when the new Ray had smiled at me in response to my invitation to eat together. God, that smile, so bright and open, all the more stunning because I'd put it there. We'd spoken only of inconsequential, introductory things as we ate, but I felt the bond between us deepen every second I sat there and listened to his soft voice and watched him illustrate a point with his hands.

As much as he scares me, I look forward to seeing him tomorrow. In fact, I can barely wait to see what happens next with him.

If I partner with this Ray, duet with him, the feelings will only grow. But pushing him away because I can't deal with my own desires would be unfair to him and possibly injurious to Ray Vecchio's cover. The new Ray has sacrificed so much, given up his life and identity, and sentenced himself to work among strangers. He must feel very alone.

Even more alone than I feel at times.

The right thing to do, for him and for Ray Vecchio, is to be his partner.

Perhaps... it might even be the right thing for me as well.

 

### End


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